Marooned Five
by FoxTeeTrot
Summary: My first story on FanFic: The Lylat System is enjoying a relatively peaceful existence. Which means unemployment for Starfox, and that just won't do. Consequently they're offered a job to transport cargo. But things don't always go as planned.
1. Chapter 1

Marooned 5

Author's note: Greetings my readers. Welcome to Marooned 5. My first story on fan fiction. I love to meet new people, therefore please feel free to chat with me anytime. I hope you enjoy the opening chapter.

Synopsis: The Lylat System is enjoying a relatively peaceful existence. Which means unemployment for Starfox, and that just won't do. Consequently they're offered a job to transport cargo. But things don't always go as planned.

•••

On a wild and stormy evening. When the sun disappeared behind the jagged mountain tops. It was fast approaching night and it came down in a curtain of ill intentions.

They, that is the two of them hunkered down tightly against the desert rock wall. There wasn't a sound, except the tension of a nervous gun-hand as it quivered by its firearm. A beagle-the escort, was making use of his time. He analyzed and refined their escape route.

Like his commanding officer used to say "A good soldier died a thousand times on the battlefield." or at least vicariously. If he could some how anticipate the enemy's next move his chances of survival improved.

He thought it over again.

The doctor-34, was down at his feet clinging to him. About a stone throw away sat this shallow ridge, behind that was their ship. He reached down, grabbed her arm and hurried to the next group of rocks. She couldn't keep up and lost her footing. While he leaned up against the rocks her face went down into his lap. They couldn't share the embarrassment, there wasn't enought time.

At this point any noise either intentional or accidental would startle them. The terror frequently kept them on edge. His brows tensed and swallowed a drop of sweat rolling down his face.

She felt down her leg and winced ' _Curse these boots!'_ her lips barely moved to keep from cracking. The dexterity of the gloves were limited but she managed to keep them on. The sand, it burnt and absorbed the heat.

He swore sharply, hard enough to make her jump flat on the soles of her boots. His face kept on the enemy all the while he readied his shotgun. Just the sight of it drove him pure mad with terror, she could see it. The expression of an obsessive hunter, but...they both knew who the prey was.

The gun, it went into his hands with a grip nothing could shake. It became a part of him, and as he glared insanely out into the open his mouth stuttered and then spoke "I hope you practiced your scream. You'll be using it soon."

That familiar accent drew out at times and drawled on vowels, it came more and more apparent when he was nervous. She stood petrified, though she could not see it and didn't want to.

"Listen! There's two hundred feet between me and you and that blasted ship. But there's only fifty between us and that thing out there." He shook as he said it, the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"What are we going to do?" Her paws went up over her head she choked down the tears, the hysterics locked up inside her.

* * *

It was hard to see. The starlight, it came down in a blinding gleam. Shuttle tiles of The Great Fox absorbed and reflected its radiance all too well. And then as it panned out behind the silica glass window there was Crystal. Her hand browsing over a computer keyboard. The other held a coffee mug. For a brief moment her eyes drifted passed the hologram.

They went over the black ocean and copper specks of the Lylat System. Maybe it wasn't so bad being alone out here...but she wasn't. She had others who cared about her. It was an unfamiliar sensation. All these years seemed to slip away like the pages in her journal. The minutes which turned into hours and nights that blended into days.

They wasted away and burned like the midnight constellations behind her rockets.

Nothing could be more real than the loneliness. She could feel the burning tears build up inside. Her eyes though, they were tired of crying and refused to ache anymore.

At least now she had something positive to dwell on. To sink into instead of the poison.

There was Slippy. He and Peppy had decided to remain on Corneria. However she couldn't say either of them treated her bad.

They were sincere and lasting individuals.

R.O.B. could finally serve in the full capacity he was designed for. Especially after the minor adjustments Slippy made to his processor. He would be a crucial part of the team on this trip.

Now Falco; there wasn't much to say about him. Or perhaps she couldn't 'read' him like the others...and then there was Fox. A subconscious sigh escaped her lips. For whatever reason she was twirling the long strand of hair over her face.

Footsteps were approaching and too quickly for her to stop. The distance between them surrendered his reflection in the window. She heard him put whatever was in his hands on the desk behind her. The Cerinian raised her arms wide enough to hug the hologram. As she clasped her paws together the hologram promptly closed. Indistictly she could see him cast a glance her direction.

"Doing okay?" He returned to the desk and continued to pour himself a cup of coffee.

There was a silence, a confident silence as she thought over her words.

"I'm fine thanks." She reached up and removed the neuro-sensor from her right ear.

"Missing the bullets yet?" The cup went to his lips but no further since it was too hot.

"Of course not!" She smiled folding her paws politely between her legs.

There was a faint smile on him as he removed his gun from it's holster. As it slammed on the table before him Fox doffed his orange vest. Her eyes hit his shoulders and slowly slid down the rest of his body.

"How are the passengers?" The chair squeaked as he leaned into it.

She gave a hard push off her desk and rolled to the instrument panel. On the panel were two sets of monitors, however neither of them matched. But they were practical and easily cycled throughout their surveillance systems. The black monitor faded into a white beam, eventually the images surfaced.

There was a long hallway, it seemed pretty exaggerated by the lenses. Almost as if it went down hill to the next doorway. It was empty. The lounge however was filled with commuters, wanders, excursionists.

Strange people; all of which Fox resented being on his ship.

"They seem to be doing fine." She replied, the features of her face accented by the monitor's light.

Fox raised the sleeve of his arm to check the time.

"12:30 AM" it blinked

A small yawn subdued as he reached around to itch at his neck. He had to remove his boots from off the desk before he was too comfortable. There wasn't enough time to rest. R.O.B. had been down below making repairs to the ship's hyper-jump. They needed to get moving soon. That is if they were to keep the schedule Peppy Hare gave them.

Unfortunately they were underprepared for such problems to exist. He leaned over and contoured himself to fit under Slippy's desk. After groping around for a few seconds he felt a hidden object. He slid out the tray and studied its contents.

There was a small yet thick green book, obviously a manual of some sort. It wasn't what he was looking for though. He removed a couple items from the container before finding the 'device' R.O.B. wanted. It had two cords one blue the other red, both coiled around its outer casing.

Fox himself didn't know how the machine operated.

He assumed it must've run some sort of diagnostics on the ship's mainframe. The canister frustrated his curiosity and ultimately won him over. While he abandoned her presence for an inactive hallway his paws returned to it. They padded it down until a handle could be made out. Next came a subtle click, it was then he knew the case opened.

A slight breeze came from the motion activated door. He was granted access into the next room and the following noise. An overwhelming rumble of spacecraft engine. The needle inside danced sporadically from one side to the next.

Almost as if it was trying to escape the small meter enclosing it. He tapped the device's glass screen a few times before it concluded on one frequency. An impressive heat remained in the engine room; it aired an uncomfortable humidity.

His boots-their steel guarded heels tapped the metal staircase he descended. The door closed behind him; it ended a spotlight of florescent light. It was replaced instead with the flashing emergency lights below. Above about every 100 ft hung these placards which numerically organized each section of the engine.

The slightly taller and slender profile of his robotic friend stocked him.

"Hello, Fox." Unaware of the robot's presence his commanding officer slapped him with the back of his hand.

Fox's promptly retracted his arms a shade embarrassed at the reaction "What are you doing sneaking around like that?"

R.O.B. stopped and spent a minute probing him "I am sorry. Is the device operable?"

"It's under speculation." He reached into a pocket, grabbed it by the husk and handed it over.

•••


	2. 4TM0SFE4R

Author's note: FoxTeeTrot would like to thank you, the viewers and welcome you to another chapter of M5. Just a heads-up there will be flashbacks throughout this story.

4TM0SFE4R

•••

Falco Lombardi laid in the solitude of his apartment, he faced the window, quietly. Early recollections-his memories punished him. He could feel it, the terrible shaking...the plummeting sensation. He was inside the cockpit again reliving the horrors of a previous existence. It came back in a flood of excitement...6...

5

4

3

2

1...

He was struggling to control the wheel. Dials, toggles, levers, meters, knobs and switches all flashed and wiggled violently. The console was filled with them. He used to understand what it all meant. Used to know how to operate his aircraft, the panic however reduced a pilot's confidence.

A missile had collided with him about five thousand feet ago. The rudders were rendered almost completely useless. Just then another rocket struck his left wing. It obliterated into a million pieces which scattered far and near. If it were any closer he would've been dead.

The force of the impact blew him back into his seat. He regained consciousness but wasn't sure how long he'd blacked out.

"Rocketeer, do you read? Over." Something warm drifted through his eyes.

It didn't sting, but judging by the consistency it must've been blood. His own blood coming down on him. It was all over now, staining the cockpit.

He had to help himself. Had to key the radio and call for help. The switch was located below his seat, mounted on the brackets to his chair. Again static hissed over his headset, it was Division Whiskey. The transmission was faint, dull, not near as intrusive as before.

It wasn't like he could do anything, even after his mind started working. Putting the pieces together, that ultimately he wouldn't survive.

The horizon spun wildly out of control. It was moving so fast he couldn't tell where the sky ended and where the water began. He let the fear in, took one deep breath and held it inside. Contained the horror.

The yoke, it shook and finally broke in two. It fell to the floor as a fierce vibration took over the entire compartment he was in. It felt as if the jet was tearing apart at the seams.

Nothing could be more terrifying, nothing was more real. And then the episode was over. He was reunited with the present.

An internal cry for help woke him from his slumber. The avian pilot sat up, felt his bed and finally himself. Unlike most nightmares his were actual events in the Corneria Air Core. Those days were well behind him, at times though he struggled to keep them there.

He lazily and yet clumsily removed his clothes. A jingle of his dog tags somewhat complimented a squeak of shower knobs turning. The porcelain or rather glass floor was cold, sobering. When the water came out it was warm, it was a relief. He held out his hands, gathered a small pool of water and submersed his face in it.

Later as he was adjusting the collar of his jacket his eyes drifted. They went over his shoulder down at the dresser beside the mattress. At the glass picture frame. But no picture was inside it. There were two medals, each with their own separate honor. His wings wandered down into the pockets of the bomber jacket. He left the privacy of his abode.

Space had its own way of disrupting sleeping patterns. Falco fell victim to it, despite his best efforts. He wondered what time of the day it might have been on Corneria. Out here there weren't days to gauge how long they'd been adrift in space. Just the starlight as it suspended a thousand miles away. It gave him hope that his feet would touch ground again.

Not that he was afraid but because the darkness grew old. Most evenings he spent in bed smoking the last drag of his day. He'd listen to the complete silence outside. Until the ringing in his ears grew unbearable. So late at night the air conditioner stayed on to give him something to hear.

They were close though, closer than the previous hours and days. Corneria was just another week away. Aquas would soon be a distant memory. Star Fox's last quadrant to navigate proved to be the most difficult.

The Meteo Asteroid Belt.

A place which frequented the news with ghastly stories of shipwrecks. To this day it remains the most treacherous space of the Lylat System. A sector most pilots steered clear of as if it were the plague. That was silly though. The only thing you'd catch there was a severe case of the 'willies'. If it's preceding reputation didn't stall your motors certainly some of the stories out there would.

Some asteroids were half the size of Corneria. He was thinking about one in particular but couldn't remember the name. A planetoid some excavators mined for a precious element. But they never returned, and this happened a few times. The cause of their disappearance was never determined. Was it hearsay, a hoax, or possibly cold hard facts backed by credible witnesses? No one knew and they'd be wrong to presume or doubt its credibility.

This wouldn't be the first time Corneria kept a secret from their people.

A mouth watering aroma bled out into the hallway. It was coming from the lunchroom. He was pleased further with their voices. At least now something else could be heard besides his own thoughts. She dressed in a white apron behind the counter. Familiar scents of croissants and pancakes made his stomach growl.

His hand moved, slid across the table as he sat down by the bar. He looked at her, though she didn't return the glance. Behind him was a table of travelers, they were loud, they were amused. Falco rolled his shoulder back, took a peep. About a dozen and a half of them surrounded a table. It gave him no chance at seeing what was going on.

The waitress-a coyote was stopping at each table replenishing the condiments. He couldn't keep an eye off her as she walked away. Her stride was long and emphasized her hips. He fought off the urge to stare at her rear. That pact didn't last long. Particularly when she bent over to reach the sugar canister.

Even this far away he underestimated a woman's intuition. That his coveting eyes could be felt. As they bared down on her body she sensed the desires air off him. He wouldn't let her see him, see the emotions stirring up inside him.

•••


End file.
